


Blood Drinker

by ReyloSFthoughts



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Dominant Kylo Ren, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Non-Graphic Smut, Power Imbalance, Rope Bondage, Vampire Kylo Ren, Virgin Sacrifice, historically inaccurate clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReyloSFthoughts/pseuds/ReyloSFthoughts
Summary: Once a year Jakku and the other surrounding villages offer a virgin sacrifice to the monster in the woods. Rey is this year's unfortunate offering."She’s trapped.Trussed up and helpless, left waiting for an unknown gruesome fate.She should be terrified. So why has she never felt more aroused?"
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 17
Kudos: 139





	Blood Drinker

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt to write anything remotely sexy or kinky so please be gentle. I did my best to tag everything that needed to be but if you think I missed one please let me know!

Rey is surprised that she’s woken up at all. She remembers thinking as the vile-smelling rag had been pressed to her nose that she doesn’t expect to ever wake again. None of the women sacrificed to the monster ever return. All anyone knows is that the virgins are gone by the next morning. Torn ropes and bloodied scraps of white fabric are the only signs left of her existence.

Rey forces herself to breathe, panicking would do her no good. But the calming breath is no help because it draws her attention to the unfamiliar pressure of a corset constricting her waist and pushing her breasts up.

The villagers had apparently thought it prudent to make her pretty for the sake of the monster coming to claim and most likely kill her.

They’d clothed her in a virginal white gown with off the shoulder sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that left very to the imagination. The delicate lace alone could have kept the village fed for a month. Her hair had been let down and coaxed into undulating waves that reached her elbows.

Rey feels like the sick combination of a bride and a corpse dressed for burial.

But her attire is forgotten as she takes further stock of her situation. Her hands are tied securely behind her back, there are several loops of coarse rope spanning from her hips to just below her breasts pinning her arms down and binding her tightly to what feels like carved wood. There is cold metal wrapped around both ankles and when she tries to move one, she discovers that they are chained together.

She’s trapped.

Trussed up and helpless, left waiting for an unknown gruesome fate.

She should be terrified. So why has she never felt more aroused?

Rey presses her eyes shut, leans her head back against whatever she’s tied to, and tries to think of anything but the coiling warmth settling in her core, the steady throbbing between her legs, and the aching temptation to rub her thighs together for relief.

With a frustrated huff, she looks around. She may be tied up, aroused at being so, and waiting for a monster but that doesn’t stop her from being curious. She’s never been in the mirror chamber before, no sane person would ever come here of their own volition. Everyone for fifty miles knows of this tower and its despicable purpose.

This beautiful, horrible room is used only once a year for the sacrifice, but there is no dust, no signs of neglect. Gilt framed mirrors adorn every panel of the encircling walls and arched windows let in the moonlight before the stone vaults into a central peak. If she cranes her neck, she can see the upper portion of the intricately carved massive tree trunk she’s tied to. The lofty branches far above her head weave in between and curl lovingly around aphrodisiac figures painted on the ceiling.

Rey quickly looks away from the shadowy murals and swallows dryly; the painted figures do nothing to help alleviate her arousal.

The moon is past its zenith but still has far to journey through before daybreak.

When will the monster come?

Rey idly twists her wrists in a vain hope to loosen the bonds.

Some say it is a great and terrible beast with blood-red eyes and jet-black fur.

The chafing at her wrists merely makes her body react more to the paradoxically enjoyable helplessness.

Some say that it is not a monster but a vengeful god of death, who deflowers the virgins and steals their souls.

She stops her fidgeting and again tries to steady her breathing which only restarts the cycle of awareness of her bonds.

Some say that the monster is a vampire, a man cursed long ago to feed on the blood of maidens. They say the yearly sacrifice of the one is so that the rest may live.

A forlorn creak of the floorboards is the first sign that she is not alone.

She tenses- every nerve in edge- and frantically scans the mirrors. She can see every corner of this room but could see no one and nothing. Her heart hammers loudly in her chest. The monster is here. She may not be able to see him, but she knows in her bones that she is not alone.

“Who’s there?” She demands. She’s grateful that the villagers didn’t gag her. She may be about to die but she doesn’t have to just roll over and take it silently. “Show yourself or just kill me and get it over with!”

“Quite the spirited little sacrifice, aren’t you?”

The decidedly masculine voice startles her. It originates from just outside of her peripheral vision, a spot that she can see clearly in the mirrors, but they have nothing to show her.

A vampire then.

Rey’s blood runs cold.

“Nothing to say in response?” He asks, sounding oddly disappointed, “Or are you like the others, too terrified to form a coherent sentence?”

His goading fuels her anger and helps stamp down the fear. “What do you want with me?” She hisses.

He chuckles darkly, “Pity, you seem like an intelligent lady, I would have thought it obvious that the correct question is ‘what do I want _from_ you?’”

“You’re a monster.” If she could see him, she would spit in his face.

“Yes, I am.”

His tone gives her pause. He sounds so forlorn, self-loathing mistakenly evident in those three little words. Her heart softens toward him despite every instinct that says otherwise.

“Well don’t sound too pleased about it.” She snarks. Her heart may have softened, but only slightly. “If you hate what you are so much why demand a virgin every year?”

“Oh, I never did.” He sounds closer. If her hands were free, she could reach out and touch him. His nearness temporarily distracts her from his statement said so casually.

“You never asked for any of this?” She scoffs, “We’ll you’ve done a great job at correcting the assumptions made by the surrounding villages. I’m sure the families of the women sacrificed to you would be pleased to know that _you never asked for this.”_

“I said I didn’t demand a sacrifice. Not that I don’t benefit from it.” His rebuke is soft, his voice a low caress that causes her to squirm under its power. “Humans who believe they have some power are easier to control. They believe me to be sated by their yearly offering and look the other way when a corpse is drained of blood or someone never returns from a journey.”

“And are you?” She is breathless and the words come out quieter than she intends.

“Am I what?” Again, his words drip like molten lead straight to her core.

“Sated?”

She hears the shifting fabric before she feels him.

His feather-light touch is gone too soon, too brief for her to catch a glimpse of what felt like cold, smooth leather brushing against her exposed upper arm just beneath the lace of her sleeve.

“Never.”

The blood in her veins pulses wildly, surely, he can hear it. She should be terrified, but it is not fear that drives her frantic heart.

Rey closes her eyes, unsure if she wants to see what comes next. Will he drain her quickly or toy with her first? Is it only her blood he intends to take? He never asked for virgins so maybe he has no interest in bedding her, just her blood. The aching between her legs has grown steadily more persistent since he first spoke and his touch… It makes her long for things she has never allowed herself to consider before.

“There is something different about you,” he murmurs curiously, as though she were a fascinating puzzle he wished to unravel. “The others always smelled and tasted of fear, so much so that it was cloying. But you…”

His touch is firmer this time and Rey sees the black-gloved fingertips glide sensually down her arm, passing over the ropes and coming to rest above her hip. Her breath comes in short uneven spurts of trepidation and foggy arousal fighting for dominance in her psyche.

The ropes tighten around her as he pulls on them with his other hand and she lets out a sharp gasp that sounds suspiciously like a moan.

“What is your name, my lady?” He whispers in her ear. He’s close. So close. She sees ebony hair and pale skin before he retreats out of view again.

“Rey, Sir.”

He breathes in sharply, just behind her, he seems to taste the air.

“Are you... enjoying this Miss Rey?” He asks in disbelief.

Her back arches without her permission. The exposed skin of her collar bones and upper chest stretch taught as she arches. The press of the ropes and the cool air on her exposed skin is intoxicating. A single nod is all she can manage in response to his question.

Finally, _finally_ , he steps fully into view. Rey appraises him swiftly, scanning him from his hard leather boots to his broad chest covered in a fine black coat to his uniquely handsome face framed in soft-looking tresses that nearly reach his shoulders.

But it’s his eyes that capture her, gleaming red in the moonlight and looking as though he longs for nothing more than to devour her.

He steps closer, eyes flickering between her neck and her lips. “May I?” His fingers are a hair width away from her face.

She gulps, unsure if what permission he seeks but she gives it all the same.

There is no savage descent upon her neck. Slowly and gently one hand caresses her cheek while the other threads through her hair pulling it slightly to tilt her gaze upwards. He towers over her yet he lowers his head, so their noses nearly touch.

“I’ve grown accustomed to the taste of fear. I wonder how much sweeter your blood will be?”

She’s trembling now, the ropes doing more than her legs to hold her up.

He releases her hair opting instead to trail his hand lazily across the ropes being careful not to touch her. “It’s impressive that such poorly conceived bonds can please you this much. It makes me wonder…” Instead of finishing his thought he lifts the loose fabric of her skirts and tsks disapprovingly at her chained ankles.

Rey glares at him, wishing she could slap his hand away, wishing he would touch her somewhere else. “Makes you wonder what?” She’s proud of herself for not sounding like the desperate trembling mess that she is.

He drops her skirts and meets her eyes; they seem to reach directly into her soul and pull out her most secret desires. “It makes me wonder how much more you would enjoy a more… purposeful position. If you would enjoy the pleasure, I could give you-”

Rey’s breath hitches. She tries once more in vain to free her wrists. Her instincts are clashing fiercely, one side screaming to run, to hide; the other campaigning for surrender, to let this beautiful man take whatever he wants, to be allowed to simply feel.

“- If you would allow me.”

With wide eyes Rey searches his, looking for any sign of insincerity but finds none. He is genuinely asking her permission.

She stares at him in disbelief. He does realize the situation surely. He has all the power here. No one, including her, expects her to survive this encounter. Yet he is asking permission to give _her_ pleasure.

He smirks a quick upturn of one corner of his full mouth that seems to transform his face, sly mischief taking over that makes him seem nearly boyish.

It’s that smirk that goads her to ask, “And if I did allow you, what would you do?”

A predatory smile replaces the boyish smirk and Rey shivers at the sight. “I want you to picture it in your mind, imagine how it would feel, can you do that for me?”

She closes her eyes and nods. Her body is taught, thrumming with unresolved tension, waiting hungrily for his words spoken in that seductive cadence.

“Good girl.” He croons. Rey stifles a gasp; praise has been such an uncommon occurrence in her life that to hear it now only increases that wonderful warmth in her core.

His words were interspersed with touches, though innocently placed, that sent fire through her veins. “If I were the one to bind you, your wrists would be tied and looped on a hook high above your head, stretching you out and displaying the tops of your beautiful breasts to me.”

He circled to the back of the tree and pulled on the ropes, pressing her further into the wood and constricting her breath. “Your ankles I would wrap in leather and force them apart to keep you from desperately squirming for relief,” He reached around and stroked once down her outer thigh, “You haven’t been very good at hiding it.”

A wretched moan escaped her. She hears the tug of leather before icy fingers descend on her exposed collar bones. She thrives under his touch, crying out and arching and nearly begging for more.

“That’s it, just feel it. Good girl…” He murmurs. “I want you to imagine this. The hook holding up your wrists is rising slowly pulling you up further and further until your feet are off the ground and you are dangling completely immobile and exposed, and utterly at my mercy.” His fingers leave her collar to stroke the throbbing artery in her neck.

She throws her head back, not caring about the sharp press of wood into her scalp, just chasing the feelings erupting beneath her skin.

“And only then - while you’re suspended and helpless, aching and needy - would I touch you.”

His massive hand leaves her throat to rub circles into the sensitive skin peaking over her corset. So, so close to where she wants him.

“Please,” she begs between breathy gasps, “-lower, touch them please…”

He acquiesces without hesitation. Cool fingers nimbly slip beneath the layers of cloth to roll her hardened peaks between them.

This final touch is what sends her over the precipice.

Her climax rushes over her, drowning her in ecstasy. It’s heat and lust, weightless and chaotic.

In her few precious seconds of immeasurable bliss, she does not notice how his hand leaves her chest to grip her hair exposing her throat, or see his wild eyes dilate and fix on her neck. She does not see the momentary hesitation half a second before he descends with gentle but with frantic need and bites.

\--------

When Rey wakes it is to soft daylight and bird song streaming in through tall, veiled windows. She feels at peace which immediately alerts her that something is wrong. Jakku is never peaceful; with merchants and scavengers conducting business both legitimate and otherwise at all hours of the day and night. 

This bed is too soft to ever exist in her meager village, the coverings too fine. Maybe if she takes them to Plutt they’d be enough to settle the debt her parents left her with.

Wait.

The residual sleep-induced fog rolls back abruptly and Rey remembers.

There was no debt. She’d gone her whole life believing her parents left her to pay off their debts to Plutt but yesterday she learned the truth while being forced from her home.

Her parents had sold her to the village to be used as a future sacrifice.

It was a neat little scheme. Her parents got rid of an unwanted child and the villager’s daughters would be safe from the monster.

The monster she’d met last night.

The vampire who drank her blood but hadn’t killed her.

The man who currently sat in the corner of this opulent room staring at her.

“Good morning.” His smile was perhaps meant to be encouraging but it comes across more like a grimace.

Rey sits up against the headboard eyeing him warily. As she does this, she takes stock of her situation. She is still fully dressed much to her relief. The laces of the corset have been loosened but she suspects it was done for her comfort. She examines her wrists expecting to find angry rope burns but is surprised to find a poultice on each wrist carefully held in place by strips of clean white linen. She shifts her feet experimentally and suspects that the same care has been applied to her ankles.

She blinks back tears. Fate must have a sense of humor that this is the most care she has ever been shown.

She tries to hide her emotions behind a quip. “You have an odd way of treating your food Sir Vampire.”

This time he truly does grimace. “The fact that what I need to survive runs through your veins does not make you-” His face twists in distaste, “-my food. I do have some small measure of decency left in me,” He gestured to her wrists, “Also, my name is Kylo Ren. Please use it, not ‘Sir Vampire’.”

Rey is tempted to tease him but decides not to press her luck.

“Well, Mr. Ren it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He raises an eyebrow at her but she just shrugs aiming for nonchalance.

“I didn’t expect to wake up at all this morning, so all things considered I think I’ll choose to be optimistic about the fact that I’m alive.”

“You were always going to wake up.” He snaps. He runs a hand over his face and leans back in the chair. “I’ll let you in on a secret; every year one of the villages leaves a woman in that chamber expecting her to be violently murdered. And every year I take what blood I need to stay sane, stage the mirror room to fuel the rumors, and then bring the woman here where she can rest for as long as she needs. When she’s ready she leaves with a sack full of gold to start a new life somewhere.”

“And that’s supposed to make it all perfectly fine then is it?” Rey demands, stomping down the side of her arguing that this is far more humane than she expected or accused him of last night. “A bag of gold is supposed to make me feel better about being kidnapped and terrified and-“ She cuts herself off the looks down at her hands unable to face him with the crimson quickly staining her cheeks at the memory of what she’d felt, and allowed him to do to her last night.

When he responds it is with the utmost self-loathing. “You were an exception. I got carried away and it was reprehensible of me to treat you that way. You have my deepest apologies. You could make any request of me and I would grant it.”

_An exception._ She wasn’t another in a long line she was _an exception_. This pleases her perhaps more than it should, knowing that what they had shared, how he made her feel, is not standard for him. His treatment of the other women and the apology he gave her makes her consider him in a new light. He seems… noble in his intentions.

She considers his apology and feels that he has done himself a disservice since she welcomed and even begged for his touch. She realizes that given the choice she would choose to let him do those wicked things he described and more.

A new world has been opened to her and she wants to explore it.

With him.

He stands, lost in his own thoughts, but makes no move towards her, instead choosing to pace near the foot of the bed. “I am not a good man, and I don’t pretend to be. My very nature depends on the sacrifice of others. I have no control over where they go after they leave here. It doesn’t matter to me and I don’t say a single thing about it yet every single one of them has chosen not to go back to the village that sent them to me. Why do you think that is?” He demands.

This gives her pause and focuses her lust-filled mind back to the present conversation. Would she return to Jakku after all of this? Knowing that they raised her specifically as a lamb for the slaughter? Her sharp rebuke dies on her tongue. She feels small and insignificant when she asks, “Were they all like me? The abandoned and unloved?”

He nods once and turns away. He says something so quietly she almost misses it; “-misery loves company.”

It’s in this moment that she realizes that this man may be just as lonely as she is.

She slides off the bed and goes to him with confidence gained from his caring actions and her own conclusions about what she wants. She reaches up to cup his face guiding him to look at her. His eyes remain downcast but he does not pull away.

“What if my request were to stay here, with you?”

He breathes in sharply and meets her eyes, searching. “Surely that is not what you truly wish.”

“It is.” She affirms, “Not just because I refuse to go back, but because I see a man with good intentions. You may not think yourself good but from the little I have seen I believe you are wrong. A monster would not have treated me with such care and respected my wishes so well. A monster would have killed all those women. But not you. So that is my request. To stay and prove to you that you can be and are good.”

His lips part in shock, his eyes scanning her face and she tries to show her sincerity in every line. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispers, “I feel it too.”

When at last he kisses her – his soft, fumbling lips pressed to hers; she meets him with her own frantic yearning, content to taste and be consumed in turn -- it feels like coming home.


End file.
